Vuyani
by Lamby
Summary: In Westchester, Logan comes to terms with what the X-Men in general and Ororo in particular mean to him. In Tanzania, a teenage boy becomes involved with rhino poachers and develops his mutation in dreadful circumstances. Can Storm and Wolverine help, or will it all be too much for Vuyani's sanity?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men or any part of their universe. A/U to X-3 and First Class. Ilehana Xavier, where mentioned, belongs to Corrinth and Blaze is mine.

**01**

_Like a friggin' boomerang,_ Logan thought to himself grumpily. _I always seem to end up comin' back._ There it was, just like always, the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters. A massive red brick mansion covered in ivy, majestic in the evening sunlight. Birds sang in the mature trees that were scattered through the grounds, the manicured lawns were smooth as bowling greens, and to Wolverine's heightened sense of smell there was the tang of explosives in the air. _Home sweet home,_ he groused, hitching the battered rucksack he carried higher over his shoulder and heading up the sweeping drive.

Years had gone by uncounted since Wolverine had first woken up in the infirmary, alone and confused. He'd left to find answers about his missing memories but he'd not been able to stay away. Losing Jean Grey at Alkali Lake had been terrible. He'd thought about leaving for good then but it never quite happened. The death of Charles Xavier, Logan's friend and mentor through good times and bad, had been devastating. But Logan had stuck around, tied to his colleagues who were grieving just as he was. A year later, Charles' daughter Ilehana had given up her life for the sake of the X-Men. Logan's heart had broken again, maybe worse than ever, and he'd needed both space and time. Yet here he was again, back in Westchester, just like a boomerang.

Not everything that happened around here was tinged with sadness and maybe that's why it was still home. He'd made some good friends, though he'd never admit it to any of them. Some had been here when he first arrived like Storm and Iceman. Several had joined the X-Men after Logan; Nightcrawler, Beast, Gambit and Blaze. Some had even left before finding like he had that this place was hard to stay away from. They included Shadowcat, Rogue and of course Jean.

She sat on the lawn with the sunlight making her sleek auburn hair luminous, her bare feet tucked up on the picnic blanket. As yet she hadn't noticed Logan, who had turned from the driveway to go towards her without thinking. It wasn't easy to sneak up on a telepath, but Jean's attention was so concentrated on the person she was with that Apocalypse himself could have dropped into the garden and she wouldn't have noticed. A little boy less than one-year-old was being held under each arm by Jean, who was letting him bounce at the knees as he practiced taking his weight on his feet. His eyes sparkled with the merriment he shared with his mother, joyous at this new game they had invented. Toys were scattered across the blanket and Logan had to step carefully so he didn't break anything as he joined them.

"Logan!" Jean squealed delightedly, tossing the child up in the air as she got to her feet. "Welcome home." She ceremoniously held out little Duncan Summers for Wolverine to take. Logan eyed the child distrustfully as two chubby hands reached with grasping fingers towards his sideburns.

"Jean, you really need to change his diaper."

"He smells?" Jean pulled the child back and swung him in her arms so she could take a good whiff of his posterior. "I don't smell anything?"

"Trust me," Wolverine said, raising an eyebrow. Scott Summers' wife made a self-conscious apology and headed indoors. Logan let her go. He had heard raised voices behind a wall in a private area of the grounds often used for training students, so that was where he headed. He turned a corner into the walled garden and had to duck as one of the students blatantly misfired with a ranged attack. The ice target that the boy had been trying to hit dripped slowly, melting in the warmth of the evening. Bobby Drake, aka Iceman, slapped his forehead in despair. "I have never seen such a sorry bunch of…"

"This is boring, Iceman," one of the five teens moaned. "When do we get to start training with moving targets?"

"How about when you can all hit the stationary ones?"

"Aww, Iceman, we thought training with you would be _fun!_"

"Don't blame me for this," Bobby replied. "Blame Cyclops. All the guy has to do to hit something is look at it and he still misses. Regularly. I won't have any mutant I trained so damn awful at ranged attacks, alright?" The kids looked chagrined, but Logan was chuckling silently. He'd never thought about Cyke's terrible aim like that before. Bobby saw Logan's smirk and went over to greet his colleague with a cool handshake.

"Let them try movin' targets," Logan advised gently, knowing Iceman was a much more experienced educator than Wolverine was or wanted to be. Bobby was unimpressed, "They'll miss."

"Sure," agreed Logan, "and they'll know you were right all along. But not until you let them fail." He could see Bobby was mulling the idea over, so Wolverine left it there. Instead he asked, "Where's everyone else?"

"Rogue is teaching in the Danger Room," Bobby replied. "Ororo was lecturing in the orangery earlier, I haven't seen her since. Everyone else is round back I think. Hank was threatening a barbeque."

"He'll singe his fur."

Bobby laughed, agreeing, "Again! I'll see you there when I'm done with training?" Wolverine made a noise that might have been agreement, making Bobby smile. "Welcome home Logan."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Around the back of the mansion on a patio overlooking the basketball court, several of the X-Men were relaxing after the day's classes. Kitty Pryde was lying back on a sun lounger, rereading Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. She was trying very hard to block out the sounds made by her colleagues, but it wasn't easy.

"Quidditch!"

Kitty shook her head, not quite believing her ears. She refocused on the page in front of her and carried on reading.

_...said Charlie shortly, "I wish England had gotten through, though. That was embarrassing, that was." "What happened?" said Harry eagerly, regretting more than ever his isolation from the wizarding world when he was stuck at Privet Drive. Harry was_…

"Quidditch!"

…_passionate about Quidditch. He had played as Seeker on the Gryffindor House Quidditch team ever since his first year at Hogwarts and owned a firebolt, one of the best racing brooms in the world. "Went down to Transylvania, three hundred and ninety to ten," said Charlie gloomily…_

"Quidditch!"

Enough was enough. Kitty dropped her book and looked up. Jubilation Lee, Jubilee, was perched on the stone balustrade that was the patio's perimeter. She was trying to paint her toenails bright yellow. Nightcrawler was likewise perched on the wall, playing a game on a tablet. He was so into the game that his tail was flicking backwards and forwards like a cat's when stalking a mouse. Said tail kept nudging Jubilee as she concentrated. She cried out again, "Quit it! Seriously Kurt, will you put that darn thing away?"

"Ahh," said Kitty, things making a lot more sense now. A new arrival got a lazy wave from her before she disappeared back to Hogwarts. "Hey Logan, good to see you!"

"Do you mean his tail or the tablet, Jubes?" Logan asked with a smirk. Jubilee just stuck her tongue out at him and went back to her toenails. Wolverine guessed he deserved it. He went away and came back so often, no one was surprised by it anymore. Maybe he should stick around for a while, that'd really worry them.

"Look who the cat dragged in," drawled a heavily accented voice. Remy le Beau, aka Gambit, walked onto the patio carrying two tall glasses of ice tea. He wore a pair of faded ripped jeans and not a lot else, comfortable in his own skin even if it was mottled black and blue with bruises. "You turn up like a bad penny, non?"

"Seems I missed you getting a good beatin' Gumbo, who do I thank this time?" Logan glanced round to see if there were any takers. A petite curly-haired woman sat at small bistro table met Wolverine's eyes with her liquid brown ones. She gave a small shake of her head, saying in an English accent, "It wasn't me." Gambit went over to her and put the drinks on the table, making the redhead smile, "You read my mind Rem."

"What's wrong with you anyway," Wolverine persisted, trying to get a rise outta the Cajun. "Too broke to afford a shirt? It's not even that hot."

"It is where Gambit sittin'," the Cajun smiled. He plopped gracefully down into a seat next to the redhead, Blaze, and placed a hand on the woman's back. Logan realised that amongst the bruises on Gambit's skin were more than a couple o' burns and blisters. Huh, so that particular on-off thing was more on than off at the moment. He'd give it 'til Friday. It was already Wednesday evening, but that was still generous given the history between the two thieves.

"Blaze, would you mind awfully putting your good friends out of their misery and lighting this barbeque?" Hank McCoy said from by the grill. He had an apron on over his massive blue frame that said 'Kiss the Cook'. As predicted, the fur on his fingers was already scorched from trying to light the coals.

"What, and ruin the blossoming bro-mance?" Blaze teased, smiling at Beast and Cyclops who was supposed to be helping. She resisted Hank's pleading gaze for all of thirty seconds before giving in and waving her hand. The previously unresponsive coals caught fire and Hank grinned from ear to ear. "Just to warn you," Blaze cautioned, "I take no responsibility for anyone going down with food poisoning."

"Can I interest you in some barbequed meat Logan?" Cyclops offered by way of a greeting and also a challenge.

"What burnt on the outside, raw on the inside?" Scott gave a small smile, nodding to Logan's description. "Just how I like it," Wolverine growled, "just how I like it…"


	2. Chapter 2

**02**

The sun was setting over Tsala Private Game Reserve in Tanzania. The green, open-top Toyota Land Cruiser bounced through the savannah on roads that were barely warthog tracks. A reserve ranger was behind the wheel, his rifle in its case lodged on the dash. On his seat on the hood the spotter kept both eyes on the surrounding terrain, calling out animals as he saw them, "Springbok!" Bracing themselves in the body of the vehicle, the gaggle of white tourists braced themselves with their feet against the seats in front of them. This left their hands free to wield their cameras and binoculars. The spotter didn't need binos to spy the fauna they had paid to see, "Red hartebeest!"

The tourists dutifully swung their gaze to the left, but no one was terribly impressed. The hartebeest is an African species of grassland antelope, standing just over 1m at the shoulder. They were impressive enough the first time you saw one, with great curving horns and bovine expressions, but there were just lots of them. No one had come on safari to see hartebeest; they all wanted to see the Big Five.

So far their ranger and spotter hadn't disappointed. They'd found lionesses basking in the sun with their nearly grown-up cubs. The male cubs were just starting to sprout manes, giving them a comical rather than regal appearance. They'd seen a small herd of elephant passing through the bush, disappeared easily into the undergrowth despite their massive bulk. Two little ones had been the stars, trotting besides their mothers with trunks in the air and mischief in their beady eyes.

The Cape buffalo had been hard to find, despite the reserve boasting a herd of sixty of the angry cows. They had come across them shortly after dusk one evening, causing a road block on the dirt track back to the luxury lodge. Leopards were even more notorious for being hard to find, with their nocturnal hunting habits and magnificent camouflage. Yet somehow they had managed it, stumbling across a young leopard taking an early evening drink at one of the watering holes. So the tourists had four out of five ticked off on their lists. Now what they really wanted to see was a rhino.

Not just any rhino. They had seen white rhino browsing not far from the lodge. It was the critically endangered and thoroughly bad tempered black rhino they were hoping to see. Standing at around 1.6m high and weighing in the region of 1000kg, the black rhino is smaller than its cousin the white. What it lacked in relative size it made up for in attitude; the ranger had had more than one run-in with pissed off black rhinos over his career. Still it was his job to take these people where they might just see one, and he had an idea where that could be.

They stopped for a breather a short distance away from where the ranger had recently heard a black rhino had been sighted. The ranger and spotter slipped from the vehicle and for the first time the rifle was removed from its case. "Stay here, eh?" the ranger told the tourists with a smile. "We'll scout ahead and then come back for you." The tourists giggled like nervous schoolgirls at the thought of being left in the bush whilst the ranger clearly thought he needed his gun. With a shared wry look the ranger and spotter disappeared into an acacia thicket.

"Dad, do you have to do that now?" drawled an embarrassed American teenage girl. The other tourists looked round to see what the teenager's father was doing.

"Ah, it's my new toy," the father said with a hint of awkwardness. He held up a small electronic device for them all to see. "GPS," he explained. "I figure if it works out here, it'll work anywhere right? I'm trialling them for my company. We want to install them in all our trucks."

"We got them on our wagons back home," a British tourist said with enthusiasm. "Great little gadgets, I recommend them."

"Thanks," grinned the American dad, "I'm sure this will work just fine. Look, signal is great!"

"You're so embarrassing," groaned the teen, drumming her hand on the outside of the vehicle. The adults in the car laughed at her discomfort and the conversation moved on. The ranger and the spotter came back, and took them all over the ridge where a great black rhino bull was grazing placidly in the ruby red sunset. It was a majestic sight that took all their breath away.

And the GPS transmitted the coordinates precisely…

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Haven't I always taken care of you sister? And especially since your husband died!"

"I remember you coming into my house when I was still dressed in my mourning clothes and telling me that no man would want me now, not since I had another man's four sons to raise!"

"Well I'm sorry for that, but that doesn't change anything, sister. I've raised Vuyani like he is my son, not my nephew. He and my Erevu are practically brothers. Vuyani and I have hunted together since he was old enough to handle a gun. What is so different this time?"

Behind the door in his mother's house in rural Tanzania, fifteen-year-old Vuyani listened to the argument whilst biting his lip. He heard the pause as his mother considered her answer carefully. He was desperate to go with his uncle, and with his seventeen-year-old cousin Erevu, on this expedition. He could hear his three younger brothers shouting as they kicked a football against the wall of the house. Vuyani could almost see his mother wince as she fought the temptation to go and yell at them. Uncle was waiting for an answer, so Vuyani's mother ignored the interruption and replied at last. "It's not the same, this time he won't be putting meat on our table."

"Of course he will. Meat, bread, a little wine. You work hard for your sons, sister. Let them start to take care of you for a change."

Vuyani had heard enough and stepped around the door. Uncle was sitting at the table in the middle of the kitchen holding a glass of water. His mother was stood by the stove, her hands on her hips as she looked over to see her eldest enter the room. Vuyani drew himself up, trying to appear a man in his mother's eyes and not realising it was an impossible task.

"I want to go Mama," he saw Uncle wince at the pleading tone he used. Vuyani steeled himself and tried again. "I am going. I'm old enough and I'm a good shot. Its time you let me be the man of the house, Mama, and look after you and my brothers."

"Alright," Vuyani's mother conceded. "You can go, this one time." She turned to her brother, "But you had better bring him back safely..."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Erevu gave Vuyani a wicked grin as they bounced along the rough road in the back of Uncle's white Ford Ranger pick-up. The sun was setting and they were running out of time to get to the meeting place. Vuyani tried to return the smile- it was too noisy for much conversation- but he couldn't put much feeling into it. Jolting along the road was rattling out his teeth and the dust spat up by the tyres was making his eyes water. Not only that, the gravity of what he was doing had started to sink in, and he felt a little nauseous. Erevu, who had been in Vuyani's shoes only a year or so ago, knew how his cousin was feeling_. _It will get better, Erevu thought to himself, when we're on our way home and nothing bad has happened.

The rendezvous point was in the middle of open savannah. Vuyani felt uncomfortable. There was nothing to hide the black helicopter as it sat with its rotor blades gently rotating. A couple of other vehicles were scattered in the vicinity, and a group of dangerous looking men waited idly by. Uncle pulled up beside a red Toyota Hilux and the boys jumped from the back as Uncle climbed from the cab. One of the men detached himself from the others and came over to greet Uncle with a firm handshake.

"This him?" The man asked unnecessarily, looking critically at Vuyani. Uncle nodded, wringing his hands. "I'm Mwamba," The man told Vuyani. "If I tell you to do something, you do it. If I tell you not to do something, you don't do it. Above all, you get a shot and you take it. Understood?" Vuyani copied his uncle, nodding. Mwamba turned and started to shout to his other men. The copter pilot started the engines and everyone piled on board. Vuyani saw that as Mwamba climbed in besides the pilot he had a GPS receiver in his left hand.


	3. Chapter 3

**03**

The gravity of what he had volunteered for dawned on Vuyani over the next hour of the helicopter flight through the Tanzanian night. His fellows, seated as he was against the sides of the copter, were a quiet bunch. No one spoke as they checked their weapons, ammo and night-vision goggles. Every one of them, Vuyani included, was dressed in shades of black and dark green so as to blend into the night. They had no radios as they could not risk communication that might be picked up by local rangers or law enforcement.

Vuyani marvelled at the top-of-the-range rifles with laser sights and silencers. He had expected things to be good with the poachers because his uncle had promised him that it would be. But it was another thing entirely to see how much money had been spent on this expedition. Vuyani gulped and bit his lip as he watched two of the men leave their seats to check the large crate that was strapped to the centre of the copter's floor. It was packed with yellow straw, ready and waiting for the rhino horns that they were going to collect tonight.

Time dragged. Erevu and Uncle were as stoic and silent as the rest of the crew. Vuyani tried to meet his cousin's eyes, looking for reassurance, but his cousin was oblivious. I shouldn't be here, Vuyani thought to himself. I shouldn't be doing this. If anything happens to the three of us who will look after the women and the children? Uncle had a wife and two daughters who were younger than Erevu. The thunder of the rotor blades throbbing through his bones made Vuyani's head ache, even though he wore hearing protection. His stomach started to clench uncomfortably as though he had eaten something rotten. The sooner this was over, the better.

The copter swung right suddenly and Vuyani instinctively hung on to his harness and shut his eyes. A sudden gust of wind blasted dirt into his face as the side door of the copter was flung wide. Somehow Vuyani managed to open his eyes again and saw the other men dragging their night-vision goggles into place. Vuyani copied them, and again as they all grabbed their weapons, making ready for the hunt. Looking out of the open door Vuyani's night-enhanced vision saw the grasslands flashing past not very far below. He marvelled at the speed at the same time as he was terrified of crashing. How could anyone fly so fast, so low to the ground?

Then he saw the black rhino bull. The copter had startled the big mammal from the thorn thicket where it had been grazing. Now the short-sighted beast was blundering away from them in a certain panic. The copter banked left, coming around the rhino to head it off. Vuyani was glad he hadn't eaten all day as his stomach nearly leapt out of his throat during the manoeuvre. All around him the men were unfastening their harnesses and leaping from their seats, rifles in hand. They piled from the hatch even before the copter had touched down, running away bent double to avoid the still spinning rotor blades. Trying not to think, Vuyani followed them.

Mwamba was first from the copter, waving his men left and right with a practised hand gesture. With military precision the men spread out to encircle the terrified black rhino. Vuyani found himself with Erevu on the left-hand arc of the circle. His heart was pounding in his ribcage and his fingers slippery with sweat made it difficult for him to grip his unfamiliar weapon. The rhino, wide eyed and terrified, made threatening gestures with its valuable horns. Someone, Vuyani couldn't tell who, fired. The shot made a dull thud as it hit the rhino in the flank, opening a massive hole in the thick skin. A wave of pain and terror hit Vuyani square in the forehead, making him cry out. The rhino whirled, disorientated, and was shot again in its hindquarters. It staggered forward at the same time as Vuyani, who stumbled into the circle blinded with agony. The two creatures, one human boy and one endangered black rhino, looked at each other for a moment. Then, lowering its massive wedge shaped head, the wounded rhino charged.

Erevu watched, paralysed with horror as his cousin just stood and looked at the rhino that charged at him. Vuyani had dropped his gun, tears flooding down his face as the rhino pounded the dry earth. There was no time! Vuyani would be killed! His hands shaking, Erevu raised his gun and stepped between Vuyani and the beast. His finger squeezed the trigger even before he had taken the time to aim. He missed and the bullet whizzed over the rhino's shoulder. Someone else was not so sloppy. Another shot took the rhino behind the ear dropping him instantly. The rhino was dead before it hit the floor, skidding to a stop in the dust at Erevu's feet.

Mwamba lowered his weapon slowly before walking purposefully to his kill. The rhino was twitching in its death throes but that didn't concern him. Raising the butt of his rifle he knocked Vuyani to the ground. He raised the rifle again and went to club the boy about the head. Vuyani just looked at him, blank with incomprehension. Only the boy's uncle grabbing Mwamba's gun and dragging it away stopped the boy from being knocked unconscious and left for the park rangers to find. Mwamba turned away in disgust, ignoring the family as he waved in his men to take what they had come for.

Erevu and his father lifted Vuyani between them. The boy was unresponsive and limp, slung between them with his arms over their shoulders. As they carried him back to the copter the whirring of a saw blade filled the air as the rhino's horns were cut from its face. They had what they had come for. It was time to leave before the rhino's human protectors came to see what horror disturbed the Tanzanian night.

Vuyani barely noticed the flight back to the waiting vehicles. Erevu had buckled him into his harness and removed the night-vision goggles before take-off. Blinded in the darkness, Vuyani was struggling to understand what had just happened to him. A horrible double vision had accosted him when the rhino charged, only stopping when the rhino was killed. He had been able to see himself, a skinny black boy stood paralysed before the stampeding beast. More than that, he had known all the pain the rhino had been feeling. He knew how much the two gunshot wounds had hurt. He knew that the rhino was desperate, ready to fight for his life against these invaders with sticks that spat fire. The hatred and terror, combined with the pain, had overwhelmed Vuyani. That was when he had dropped his gun, unable to separate himself from the rhino in his mind.

Then when Mwamba had killed the rhino, all the emotion vanished in a split second. Vuyani had barely noticed Mwamba striking his chest with the butt of his gun. Compared to the rhino's agony it was nothing; a flea bite. That was why he had appeared vacant when Mwamba looked down on him ready to strike him again. The sun was coming up as the copter dropped down to land near the parked vehicles. Vuyani managed to unstrap himself from his harness and climb down unaided, though Erevu watched him closely. Uncle, disgusted by his nephew's performance, went to start the car without even looking back. Erevu helped Vuyani into the back of the pick-up and sat down opposite his cousin. Mwamba got back into the copter and the pilot took off, their treasure safely contained in the packing crate. At that all the other vehicles set off too, bouncing over the rough terrain as everyone headed home.

Eventually Vuyani found his tongue and said something to Erevu. His cousin shook his head, he couldn't hear him, and made a dart for the seat next to Vuyani. Vuyani licked his lips and tried again. "I could feel what the rhino was feeling."

"They are impressive animals," Erevu said. "It's hard to see them killed, the first time anyway. But you have to think of the money…"

"No, you don't understand," Vuyani insisted. "I know what he was thinking. I know how scared and hurt he was. When he charged me, it was like I was in his head looking out at me. Then when he died it all stopped. I was back in my head, looking at him. But for a minute I was the rhino, Erevu. I was him and he was me, and I wanted to kill me. I meant that charge to kill me, and you, and all of the men. I just wanted to kill everyone and escape. But then Mwamba killed me instead." Vuyani shook his head, bewildered. "I know what the rhino was thinking, everything he was thinking Erevu. I was in his head."

Erevu just looked at his cousin as though he were an alien. Then a thought crossed his mind. Could Vuyani be a mutant?


	4. Chapter 4

**04**

Despite the smell of his first cigar of the day, Logan could tell that breakfast was on its way up to him in the attic room where he had sequestered himself. One pot of strong coffee, recently brewed. One glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. Some milk for the coffee, the whole fat kind not that white water that Jean drank. Two boiled eggs and slightly burnt toast, which meant Kitty had broken the toaster again whilst phasing out her own breakfast. A blueberry muffin out of a packet and a stack of fresh pancakes doused with enough maple syrup to give him a sugar headache. Logan's stomach rumbled appreciatively.

His benefactor he could identify by the lightness of her steps as she ascended the steep stairs. He could hear the soft swoosh of a long dress and the scuff of ballet pumps as she moved. Storm's hand was gentle on the door handle as she entered. Ororo didn't bother to knock, knowing that her approach had been smelt and heard long before she got to the door. She gave Logan a gentle smile as he looked up to greet her, raising the tray she carried by way of a hello.

"I thought that you might need a little sustenance."

"You're an angel, 'Ro." Wolverine stood, cricking his neck. "Think I've been sat still too long…"

"You've been up here all night?" Ororo gazed around the attic den, looking at the scattered papers, journals and oddments that told the story of a journey that had consumed a life. The room was musty, illuminated by Jacob's ladders from a dirty skylight in which dust motes danced.

"Yeah well," Logan grimaced. "I figured I'd put off sorting her things for too long. Last night I finally decided it wasn't gonna get any easier the longer I left it. It's not like she's coming back."

Wisely, Storm said nothing. This room had been Ilehana Xavier's hideaway, her personal haven, and she could see in Logan's eyes how coming up here had brought all the pain of losing her back again. But only Logan could decide what to do with her things now she had passed on. None of the other X-Men would even step foot in this room without his permission. He sighed, shaking his head at his own foolishness.

"I don't know why it hurts so much," he confessed. "It was always gonna end like this, sooner or later. She was always gonna die. And I… don't. I just carry on. Whatever happens, however much I care for someone, I'm always gonna lose 'em in the end."

Storm was flabbergasted. The monosyllabic Wolverine was opening up like she had never heard before. Maybe it was because he had been up here all night, haunted by ghosts. Maybe he was just getting loquacious in his old age. Ororo told herself off, _he's hurting. If you're his friend, you'll help ease that hurt, not marvel at him for needing assistance._

"Logan," the white-haired woman placed the breakfast tray on top of a battered chest and busied herself pouring him a mug of the coffee. "Perhaps you are right. Perhaps you will carry on, or perhaps one day you will pass from this life as the rest of us are destined to do. But you should have no regrets about your time with Ilehana.

"Don't you see," she continued, "how so many of us live our lives holding ourselves back? We don't want to get hurt, so we restrain ourselves from emotional attachments and we don't tell those we care about how we really feel…"

"Naming no names," Logan quipped flippantly, thinking of half a dozen that would fit that description in this mansion alone.

"Naming no names," Storm smiled, adding milk and stirring the coffee gently. She handed the mug to Logan as he came to join her. "But in the end, where does that lead except to regret and wondering what if? We saw that when Scott lost Jean at Alkali Lake. They were lucky and they got a second chance, and thank goodness that they took it. People do not normally get that opportunity.

"Of everyone I have ever known, Logan, you would be the one who could be most forgiven for holding yourself back. But you never do. Despite your long life, despite everything you've been through, you live every single day. You don't hold back, you don't worry about what people might think and you don't give a thought to whether you will get hurt."

"I'm a sucker for punishment," Logan joked, making a dive for an egg with a toast soldier.

"Whatever you are Logan, you lived every day you had with Ilehana. Believe me when I say that when she died, she died with no regrets about what was between the two of you. She knew exactly how you felt about her, how you loved her, and I am sure that gave her comfort in the end. Let it be a comfort to you now as well."

Wolverine wanted to be glib. He wanted to point out to Storm that Ilehana had been a telepath; of course she knew what he thought and felt about her. But at the same time he knew that wasn't what Storm meant. Her words were kind, but they were also true. He didn't hold back. He just didn't have it in him to be restrained or to worry about what people might think. Maybe he lacked imagination. He could see in Storm's eyes that she thought him courageous and right now, hurting as he was, Logan would take that. A word he didn't often use fell from his lips without him even thinking about it.

"Thanks."

"You are very welcome Logan," Ororo said, inclining her head gracefully.

"When did you become school agony aunt anyway?" Wolverine jested, covering a silence that would have left him vulnerable. "Got any more wise words for our troubled colleagues?"

"I might have," Ororo responded. "But not everyone listens as well as you, Logan."

"Such as?" He was fishing and they both knew it. Storm shook her head seriously.

"If you want gossip, you should try someone else. Enjoy your breakfast." Then she left, leaving Logan dissecting his muffin. Wolverine gave half a smile as the door closed behind her. He'd catch up with Jubilee later no doubt, when the others weren't around. They had an unofficial partnership after his trips away. Jubilee, who loved to gossip even more than Storm hated it, would fill Logan in on all the mansion's latest incidents with only minor embellishments. Logan in turn would listen patiently and then be able to switch off completely during whatever 'debrief' Cyclops tried to inflict on him. Jubes would know who had knocked Remy black and blue, and who Storm had been counselling… But first Wolverine had a job to do, and he wouldn't disappoint Ilehana by holding back from this solemn duty she had left for him. He returned to her files, leaving the rest of his breakfast to grow cold on the tray.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** #-# depicts telepathic communication.

**05**

#Don't even think about it.#

The brown cow flicked an ear as if trying to get rid of an annoying fly. Then she looked once again at the pots of herbs growing on the steps of the house. They did look tasty and she was always hungry.

#I said don't even think about it. Move along cow. Now.#

Vuyani watched with satisfaction as the hungry cow moved away from his mother's herb garden and strode off towards her sisters in the paddock. He could tell she was confused about what had just happened in a soft, muddled sort of way. He knew that the cow thought she would feel better when she was back with the herd. He nudged the thought and she trotted forwards a little more vigorously. It was good in the herd, Vuyani understood. They looked out for one another. It was safe and comforting to be with the other cows. The cow didn't think in words so much as in feelings. Her enthusiasm for the herd was like a warm tug on Vuyani's sense of self and he felt himself slipping more into the cow's gentle mind…

"Are you even listening to me?" Erevu said crossly, nudging Vuyani in the ribs.

"Sorry, what?" Vuyani dragged himself back to his own mind. He was sat on the paddock fence with Erevu. The sun rolled high above them, it would soon be too hot and they would go inside to seek the shade. Vuyani's brothers were in school in the village so everything was peaceful and calm around the house. His mother had gone out to get some supplies and Vuyani was supposed to be helping Erevu mend the fence they were sitting on. Vuyani looked at his cousin, who scowled back.

"Where were you just then Vuyani?"

"It was the cow," Vuyani admitted. "She wanted to eat my mother's plants so I told her to go away. Her instinct was to go back to the others. It was… interesting. It distracted me for a moment. I won't let it happen again."

"The cow?" Erevu looked at where the animal was now browsing peacefully with the others. "It was looking at your mother's plants," he agreed, "then it just wandered off. You did that? You made it go away?" Vuyani thought about it for a moment, "Yes."

"That's amazing," Erevu was solemn. "Can you do it again? Try getting that dog to do something."

"I don't know if it works like that," Vuyani hesitated. The dog, a scruffy sandy-coloured mongrel, was sniffing around the yard by the road. #Dog,# Vuyani tried, #Come here.# Nothing happened except that the dog cocked a leg against a rock and Erevu laughed.

"Did you make him do that?"

"No." #Dog, come here. Now.# The dog wandered off down the road, sniffing at something dead in the verge before disappearing from sight. Vuyani sighed, "It didn't work."

"So try the cow again," Erevu was starting to think, not for the first time, that his cousin was making all this up.

#Cow, come here.# As one, the herd of cows lifted their heads and looked at the humans. Their mouths moved uniformly as they chewed cud, considering. Erevu gasped but Vuyani was not impressed. #Come here cow.# The herd started to take a few steps towards the boys and Vuyani realised he needed to be more specific. He focused on one particular cow, an ugly one with a torn ear, and then thought, #Herd stay. You cow, come here.#

The herd stopped. The ugly cow came forwards, lowing slightly as she tried to work out what was happening. Erevu leapt from the fence and landed with two feet on the grass, which broke Vuyani's concentration and sent the cow running back to the herd. That was more strangeness than the cows could take for one morning and they whirled away from the boys.

"I could have made her come closer," Vuyani complained. Erevu goggled at his cousin. He could barely believe what he had seen but there was no denying it now. Vuyani could talk mind-to-mind with the cattle and he said he could talk in the same way to rhinos. It hadn't worked with the dog, but then dogs were carnivores so maybe their minds worked differently.

"You could make a rhino come to us," Erevu nearly shouted he was so excited. "You could make a rhino come to us and it would be an easy kill! We have to tell Mwamba!"

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Mwamba could not believe his luck. He hadn't wanted to believe it. He hadn't wanted to let this boy anywhere near his operation again after the first debacle. But now he was glad that he had. So glad. This was the easiest kill he had ever made!

They were stood in a quiet backwater, near a watering hole where a pair of cranes was building a nest. They had no helicopter, only Vuyani's uncle's Ford Ranger. Only Mwamba carried a gun and none of his other men were present. Fewer men for the kill meant fewer men to pay so Mwamba was all for this part of the arrangement. The efficiency Vuyani's mutation brought to the operation would make Mwamba very rich indeed. Very rich. The moonlight glinted off the horns of the female black rhino that walked calmly towards them.

#That's right,# Vuyani praised the female, #come to me.# He was brimming with pride and enthusiasm for this work, not least because of the approval he detected from both Uncle and Mwamba. These stern men who killed and flouted international laws to make a living were pleased with him. They saw what he was doing and they were proud. They couldn't do this, no one else could, only Vuyani. The rhino paused, troubled by the boy's racing adrenaline and the scent of strange men on the evening breeze. She couldn't see very well but these men were stood downwind of her and it made her nervous. #It is alright,# Vuyani told her, washing her with the most calming memory he could think of. It was the sight of his mother coming into his room when he had been small to tuck him into bed. Vuyani breathed the calmness of the memory, let it flood the mind-bond that he had forged between him and the rhino.

#Calf?# the female asked quizzically. Vuyani nearly jumped out of his skin. He forced himself to be calm as the rhino turned slightly, edging away from his sudden change of mood. How did the rhino know how to think in words?

#No not a calf,# Vuyani tried to explain. #It was me when I was a calf, with my mother. I remember good feelings. I want to share them with you.#

#Ah,# said the female. #You are a calf.# She came closer, snuffling the breeze.

#No, no, I am grown up now. I'm not a calf anymore. But I remember being a calf.#

#You are a calf,# the female replied with amusement as she came within rifle shot. #Still a calf that needs his mo…#

"No!" The word escaped Vuyani's lips just as Mwamba's shot cut through the rhino's skull and dropped her. Uncle and Erevu looked at Vuyani sharply, but Mwamba was not interested in Vuyani's sudden outburst. Maybe the boy was simple as well as gifted. It did not matter to him what the boy thought about the process. The rhino was down and Mwamba swapped his rifle for the powerful saw he needed to cut the horns from the female's face.

"Get the box," Mwamba told Erevu and Uncle. Soon all three were busy, leaving Vuyani to mourn the death of the rhino that had trusted him.

"You shouldn't trust anyone," Vuyani told her under his breath. "Not even a calf." He felt very young and very alone, bewildered by what had happened and not sure what to do.

#Calf?# a small, timid voice asked in Vuyani's head. The men were nailing the crate shut now, even as the female's blood congealed on the dry ground. Vuyani turned around on the spot, trying to work out who had spoken to him.

"Vuyani, come on!" Erevu was in the back of the pick-up, his hand extended to his cousin as Mwamba and Uncle lifted the crate onto the flatbed. Vuyani started towards them thinking he was hearing things.

#No calf? Mother?# the timid voice asked again. Vuyani tried to block it out, grasping Erevu's hand and hauling himself into the pick-up. Mwamba slammed the tailgate shut as Uncle started the engine. They needed to get out of here fast so that they were not caught.

#Mother!# the timid voice bleated, as the car's headlights swung round to illuminate a patch of thorn bush. Vuyani caught a glimpse of something in the thorns even as the car pulled away. #Mother!# The tiny calf, hidden in the dense thicket by the mother who now lay dead, trotted blindly out into the open. Its distress hit Vuyani like a tidal wave. It knew somehow that its mother was dead and that it was alone. Without a mother to suckle and protect it, the calf was surely dead now too. It didn't know what to do. It didn't know where to go. It wandered over to its mother's cooling body and nudged her, trying to suckle. #Mother!#

Vuyani's heart broke. He was fifteen and he had never had his heart broken before. He didn't really remember his father and so he had never been especially burdened with that loss. Now he knew exactly how it felt to lose one's mother, to be left all alone in the world and have no one to turn to. The world was so big and the calf so small, so piteous cowering by his dead dam's side. He was frightened and lonely and he didn't know why his mother wouldn't get up. #Mother…#

The car moved away and Vuyani lost the mental contact with the infant rhino. He found himself back in his own body, crying and sobbing like an orphaned child. Erevu was trying to talk to him, to comfort him, but Vuyani just shoved his cousin away. What had he done? What had he done?

#Shush,# a motherly human voice told him inside of his mind, enveloping him in a warm forgiveness. #You didn't know. You didn't mean to do it. You're not alone, mutant, and neither is that baby. It will be alright. We will come find you, both of you. Shush...#


	6. Chapter 6

**06**

A new school day started at the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters. Teenagers wandered through the mansion's multitude of corridors in groups, slamming doors and disappearing into rooms where the X-Men taught their lessons. In a ground floor classroom Jubliee was perched on her desk at the front of the room, kicking her heels and watching her pupils file in. Elsewhere Blaze was writing some French verbs on her classroom's whiteboard in her big, looping handwriting. Bobby Drake was cursing Hank McCoy for the network "upgrades" that were crippling the speed of the laptops he needed for his IT lessons. Gambit was still in bed, face down and snoring as he slept off a late night mission. Cyclops had the short straw, covering for Jean in biology because the school's doctor and only telepath was otherwise engaged in Cerebro. The only people who were as disgusted with this turn of events as Jean's husband were Jean's pupils, and they griped to each other as they walked slowly to class.

"I can't believe we got Cyke for this session. Is Jean really making him carry on with… y'know… reproduction?"

"You betcha she is. I heard her tell him last night that the lesson was all prepared."

"Oh man," groaned a third pupil, "We got Cyke for sex education, how embarrassing is that? I think I'd rather be lectured by my dad!"

"You're telling me," the first boy agreed. "And what's even worse is we all know Cyclops can't teach _anything_ without drawing a diagram…"

"Which is why," said the second boy, putting his arms around his classmate's shoulders to bring them into his conspiracy, "I snuck into class this morning whilst you guys were stuffing your faces at breakfast and changed all the whiteboard markers for permanent ones." The admiration suddenly bestowed on the prankster by his colleagues was incredible, but short lived. The boys turned into the foyer and walked straight into an X-Man who could not have helped but hear everything. Busted! The horrified threesome waited rooted to the spot as they wondered what punishment would be cast upon them.

Logan thought about what he had heard for a second. Then he decided it was pretty damn funny. Very seriously he addressed the boys, "Knock yourselves out." The boys breathed a collective sigh of relief and darted to class before Logan changed his mind and warned Scott. Logan risked a snigger at the thought of Cyclops' discomfort as the embarrassing images he was about to doodle on the whiteboard wouldn't wipe off and wished he would be around to enjoy it. Still, no rest for the wicked. He turned to go down to the hanger where the X-Jet was waiting.

"Logan, wait!" Wolverine froze, lifting his jaw to watch Storm coming down the stairs into the foyer. Had Ororo overheard what the boys planned, what Wolverine had just condoned? He needn't have worried. "I'm coming with you."

"No, you're not," Logan shook his head seriously. "I got this one Storm. Scott's orders."

Ororo paused until she reached the ground floor and the last clunk of a classroom door closing echoed down the hallways. Then she told Logan exactly what she thought, "Scott is being a fool if he thinks that sending an angry white North American man to a remote African village to the aid of a frightened black teenager is a good idea."

"I dunno 'Ro, Jean got some pretty scary pictures from her contact with the kid. These people he's mixed up with have some serious weaponry. It could turn bad damn quick out there."

"Which is why you're still coming," Ororo told him with a smile. "Jean and I have discussed it, Wolverine, and I'm going on this mission." She raised a hand to indicate the doors to the lower level elevator. "Shall we?"

A short while later the two X-Men had taken off from the hangar under the basketball court, gained altitude and attained cruising speed. They worked in companionable silence broken only by the necessary communication between pilot and co-pilot. Finally Storm reached out and inputted the coordinates for Vuyani's home. Then she flicked the switch to engage autopilot. Logan leant back in his chair and stretched laboriously. Then he asked, "So what did Cyke say when you an' Jeanie told him you were piggybacking on my mission?"

"You know we completely forgot to mention it to him," Ororo admitted cheekily. Logan chuckled, swivelling his chair like a naughty schoolboy. _Sometime soon, _he thought, _Cyke is gonna realise he's having a really bad day. I hope Gumbo gets his skinny behind outta bed soon enough to enjoy it, I'll want the full debrief when I get back_. Out loud he said, "Hmm, how long is the flight time to Tanzania?"

"Upwards of fifteen hours," Storm replied as she stood and walked away down the aisle of the plane. Logan spun round in his seat again to take in the very dull view through the cockpit window. Clouds rolled by below in an endless white blanket, blotting out the landscape, whilst the sky above was blue and still.

"Great," Logan grumbled, "it's about now I realise I should have brought a bo…" He was cut off as a pile of stuff landed in his lap. He raised an eyebrow, turning the items in his big hairy hands. There were a couple of blood-and-thunder historical novels by authors Bernard Cornwell and Conn Iggulden. Behind the paperbacks were the latest issues of two different motorcycle enthusiast magazines, neither of which Logan had seen. Last but not least were a trio of manila folders with typed headings. These contained hardcopy reports from three X-Man missions which Logan had missed whilst away. He looked over at Storm who had sat back down with a tablet in front of her, ready to mark some coursework from her humanities students.

"What, no crayons for me? No colouring book?"

Storm laughed aloud and shook her head. "You would be easier to pack for if you would convert to an e-reader, Logan."

"I like paper," Wolverine grumbled. "So sue me. But seriously Storm, who put you in charge of in-flight entertainment? Am I that bad company?"

"Not at all," Storm replied with a sigh. "I am sorry if I offended you Logan, but I have been on too many long-haul missions with some of our colleagues. I now always bring something in case of emergency. Or rather to prevent an emergency."

"Lemme guess, Jubilee?"

Storm nodded, rubbing her temple as she felt an echo of the headache she'd developed after an eighteen hour flight with Jubilation. It had taken over a week to subside. "She was rather… difficult."

"Jubes is nothin'," Logan snorted. "You should try flyin' with just Iceman. The boy can't help but fidget."

"At least he usually brings something to fidget with," Storm sighed. "Gambit can also be… difficult. Remy does not know when to stop talking."

"Ah, Gumbo's an easy one," Logan laughed, putting the books to one side and turning straight to the mission reports. "Just fly commercial so he can get drunk and flirt with the stewardesses."

"I will remember that," smiled Ororo. "Thank you Logan."

"Huh, no problem," Wolverine grunted. Silence fell comfortably as the two friends started to read. And so the fifteen hour flight passed without incident, in easy companionship and the company of a good book or two.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Apologies for the delay in writing/posting this chapter, it's been a busy few weeks. Thank you to all my followers and reviewers for your kind words and encouragement.

**07**

It was near enough midnight in New York State when Logan and Ororo touched down in Tanzania. Yet in this part of Africa the sun was already up, the tropical morning fresh and promising. Logan groaned; he could feel the jetlag starting to kick in as his body clock protested. A whole day traveling he could handle, but missing out on a night's sleep at his age… whatever that was. Ororo didn't seem to notice, busy checking the coordinates that Jean had given them for Vuyani's home village against their current position. "Problem?" Wolverine asked.

"The coordinates are not as…precise as I expected," Storm said tactfully, meaning that Jean was no Xavier when it came to operating Cerebro. "Clearly there is no village here." She started to punch controls on her display, concentrating on the three dimensional map it projected. "I will scan the area to see what I can discover. Can you check in with the mansion?"

Logan didn't bother to reply. Giving Storm the room she needed to work he went to a drop-down console in the rear of the jet. He leant one arm on the curved panel above his head as with his other hand he pulled down the console and started to put in the commands he needed. Within seconds his call to Westchester was answered.

"Bin waitin' for you," a bored male voice answered as the image flickered into lift. Gambit's head and shoulders filled the screen, and occasional flashes of white across the bottom of the image were the playing cards he was shuffling.

"Yet you don't sound happy about it, Gambit," Logan drawled, "Did you get the short straw again? I thought you liked being nocturnal?"

"It depend _why_ Gambit being nocturnal, non? Surely sittin' around waiting for his team to check in is the job of a team leader. Yet Cyclops tells me he an' Jeanie gonna be up all night with a teethin' child, an' as I don't got no classes to teach tomorrow I get to run point for you. Never mind dat Gambit might have plans for an evening, eh? Mon Dieu, never mind dat Gambit might have a social life…"

"My heart bleeds," Logan said without inflection. "Just so you know Jeanie's coordinates were crap. We're gonna have to go look for this kid the old fashioned way."

"D'accord," Gambit sighed.

"We'll check back with you in a couple of hours," Logan said with a grin. Remy laughed and called Wolverine a rude name. They both knew Logan had only said that so that Remy would have to stay put in Westchester until whatever ungodly hour Storm and Wolverine decided to call back. "Ask Blaze to keep you company?" Wolverine suggested.

"Mon Petite otherwise engaged," Gambit said with a grimace.

"Date?"

"Somet'ing like that."

"Sucks to be you, Bub," Logan consoled the Cajun. Gambit heartily agreed and terminated the call. Logan put the screen away and turned back to Ororo, "Found anything?"

"There is a village after all, maybe an hour's walk from here. I don't understand how Jean missed it, unless the boy was travelling when she last spoke with him. I suggest we leave the jet and walk to the village in our civilian clothes. Maybe we can find Vuyani without attracting too much attention."

"Angry North American white man, remember? I think we'll attract attention, but I can't think of a better plan so lead on."

Leaving the jet, Logan was actually speechless. He couldn't remember being in Tanzania before (not that this meant a great deal), and if he had any preconceptions of what awaited him they were well short of the reality. From horizon to horizon the countryside rolled like a vast green blanket, verdant and empty of signs of human life. The lush shadows of forested mountains in the north were a temptation to Logan, who always felt a kinship with the high places. The occasional tree shimmering in the morning haze brought to mind the work of Monet; somehow richer and more real than the deciduous giants that populated Westchester.

Birdsong danced in the air, filling Logan's sensitive ears with a heady chorus of chirrups, whistles and melodies. When he inhaled, the rich earth smell was complemented by the delicate fragrance of small purple orchids that blossomed freely amongst the long grasses. In the middle of this tapestry of scent, Logan detected a mellow odour which was familiar. Diesel fumes. He headed out into the wilderness to investigate as Storm activated the remote which would engage the stealth features on the X-Jet, rendering it invisible to the casual eye.

"You were right about the kid being on the move," Wolverine told Storm when she joined him a short distance away. Crouching down, he brushed the flattened grass with his hand. "Tyre tracks; someone driving off-road and at speed. They headin' towards your village?"

"It appears that way," Ororo confirmed, following the twin lines of flattened grass with her gaze.

"Then I guess we've got our boy. Let's go."

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"Hey, Mzungu!" cried the school children, running out from the yard besides the village school as soon as they saw Logan approaching, "Mzungu!" They seemed to take great delight in chanting the word, dancing around the white man and tugging on his clothing. Logan bit down hard on his cigar and resisted the temptation to box ears until the kids calmed down. Storm laughed aloud, clearly delighted by the children who beamed back at her with innocent enthusiasm.

"You know what that means?" Logan asked Ororo, who shrugged before correctly guessing, "White traveller, perhaps? It doesn't seem to be offensive."

"Says who?" Logan groused; feeling affronted despite the obvious warmth of the children's tone. He looked around over their bobbing heads to admire the village. Round mud huts seemed to be the most popular type of dwelling, scattered higgledy-piggledy around the village centre. Yet the school building and the missionary church that lay at the outskirts were verging on colonial, built of wood and primly whitewashed. There were tracks for vehicles and animals to be driven, although the village didn't seem to be on a direct thoroughfare to anywhere.

There were a few women stood chuckling in the shade of a thorny tree, pointing at Logan and Storm and their entourage. A street vendor was grilling some meat on skewers, which she called mishkaki when Storm pointed at them. The mishkaki looked good after their long flight and ensuing hike, so Storm bought two along with cups of deliciously sweet, milky tea laced with ginger called chai tangawizi. Logan was incredibly impressed that Storm had brought the local currency, the Tanzanian Shilling. He guessed there was a story there about a mission gone wrong and vowed to ask her at some point in the future. Certainly he was glad she had come along for the ride, otherwise he'd be going hungry.

The villagers were initially warm and friendly, but although the X-Men asked everyone from the school children to the street vendor and the gossiping women whether they knew Vuyani, they got blank looks and vacant shrugs in reply. No one would meet their eyes after they had asked. The villagers drifted away, the children returned to school, and Logan could feel the unseen eyes watching him.

"Is it just me, or is this place a whole lot less welcoming all of a sudden?" Wolverine asked. Storm pursed her lips and tucked her white hair back behind her ear.

"The boy is a mutant, maybe the first one they have had in the village. It's little wonder they are suspicious."

"Call it a hunch," Logan argued, "but I don't think that's it at all. I think they know Vuyani is associated with the kind o' people you don't want to invite round for mishi-cocky."

"Mishkaki," Ororo corrected instinctively. "You may be right, Logan. But look, not everyone has disappeared…" Logan followed Storm's gaze, to where a young boy who probably should have been in school was peering at them from behind a hut. He watched them openly for a moment, as if sizing them up. Then he beckoned them with a finger, his expression comically serious for one so young. Logan and Ororo exchanged a meaningful glance and then followed the boy, who led them out of the village and into the surrounding fertile farmland.


	8. Chapter 8

**08**

They followed the boy, who did not speak to them, to a rectangular farmhouse build of mud bricks and with a corrugated tin roof. Pots of herbs grew on the doorsteps and window ledges. There was a timber fence beyond which a small herd of brown cattle grazed. Across the field Logan could see another house built in a similar fashion with smoke rising from a hole in the roof. A white pick-up truck was parked there. Looking behind him, he could no longer see the village. These two farmhouses were a settlement apart.

As the X-Men approached they heard shouting from inside the nearer of the two buildings. A man and a woman were rowing about something, or rather they would have been if the man could get more than a couple of words in before the woman continued her tirade. The small boy blanched when he heard them, clenching his small fists tightly by his sides. Storm's heart went out to him because he was obviously upset about the fighting. There was no chance to console the boy. A youth wearing a grim expression appeared from round the back of the building and called out to him.

The boy ran to his elder relative- there was an obvious resemblance- talking quickly in his native tongue. Storm and Logan shared a glance. Was this youth Vuyani? He seemed very assured for one who had recently become a mutant. That did not tally with Jean's impression of the youngster. The youth clipped the child around the back of the head as the X-Men watched, sending him scampering back towards the village. Presumably he had just got in trouble for not being in school. Then the youth was walking towards Storm and Logan, calling out in English.

"You are looking for Vuyani?"

"Are you him?" Logan replied with a question of his own. The youth shook his head.

"No, I am his cousin. My name is Erevu. The boy who brought you here is Vuyani's little brother. This is his mother's house."

"Is that his mother yellin', Bub?" Erevu nodded, glancing over his shoulder at the house from where the voices emanated. "Is Vuyani here?" Logan pressed, but he was disappointed.

"No." Then Erevu surprised both X-Men. "I know who you are. You are Storm and Wolverine. You've come to collect Vuyani and take him to America because he is a mutant."

"That's not quite…" Ororo began, but Logan interrupted her. "Yeah, we are, so where is he?"

"Gone," Erevu told them. "That's what my father and aunt are fighting about. Vuyani took off in the middle of the night and we don't know where he's gone."

"Why would he do that?" Ororo asked gently, reaching out to touch Erevu's arm. The youth recoiled as if she had bitten him. He was clearly distracted and angry, perhaps with Vuyani, perhaps with himself for not seeing this disaster looming.

"How should I know," he snapped, "maybe it was something the damn rhinos told him to do?"

Logan paled. He felt suddenly a fool. He hadn't bothered to find out what Vuyani's powers were. He figured if he was useful to poachers then the kid was probably armed n' dangerous like Gambit or Iceman. The last thing he had expected was that the kid would be able to communicate with animals. The last thing he had expected was the boy to have something in common with Ilehana.

Storm watched Logan recoil like a drunkard, eyes wide and unfocused. _He didn't know_, she thought, concerned. At that moment a man appeared out from the house and started towards them. Having lost the argument with his sister Erevu's father was looking for a new target for his wrath. He shouted at Erevu in their native tongue. When Erevu didn't reply he began to chastise Ororo and Logan in English. In his hands the man held a shotgun. Ororo was sure it was loaded.

"This is private land, you shouldn't be here!" Vuyani's uncle screamed. His hands moved clumsily on the weapon. "You're not welcome. Leave! Now!" He raised the gun despite Erevu suddenly pleading with his father. The youth went to the man and tried to take the gun away, but his father shoved him aside. Now the gun was levelled at Logan who was distracted with his own demons. The wind picked up, almost begging Storm to let it aid her. Ororo resisted, seeing how frightened Erevu's father looked. The gun shook in his hands as his finger brushed the trigger.

"Alright," Ororo raised her hands pleadingly, stepping in front of Logan. "We are leaving Sir, we are leaving." She backed away, taking Logan by the arm and guiding him towards the road.

"Just keep going," Vuyani's uncle threatened, but there was relief in his voice that the stand-off was passing. As Storm turned away, Erevu was standing by his father's side as the man lowered the butt of the gun to the floor. Where the uncle looked frightened but furious, Erevu's face was impassive and Storm wondered what exactly the youth was thinking.

Logan was silent for a good while, lost in his thoughts and headless of where they were heading. Ororo did the only thing she knew to do; she headed for the X-Jet to call her colleagues. If Vuyani was missing so that not even his family knew where he might be, then Gambit would have to wake Jean so that she could use Cerebro to find him. Just to break the silence Ororo told Logan this plan. For a little while afterwards he remained quiet. Then he stopped in the middle of the road and shook his head.

"No we can't do that. It's the middle of the night in Westchester. If Duncan wakes he'll need his Mommy more than we need her in Cerebro," he said. Ororo gaped at this insight into the tenderness at the heart of the Wolverine. Here was a man who should clearly have been a father. Logan did not notice her surprise but pressed on with his train of thought. "Besides if Vuyani is animalistic in any way we don't need a psychic to find him. He's scared and alone, and confused no doubt. They all are when they get their powers, never mind if you're involved in the murder of something you're mentally linked to. He'll have done what all wild things do and gone to ground, as far from humans as he can manage."

"You think that's what has happened? Vuyani was mind-linked to rhinos that the poachers have been killing?"

"Count on it," said Logan, following a hunch and turning off the road. "If I was a poacher and a gift like Vuyani landed in my lap, that's what I would do."

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"They were looking for Vuyani?"

Erevu nodded, watching as the cogs whirred slowly in his father's brain. What would his old man do now? Would he look after the interests of his family, Vuyani's interests? Or would he do the unthinkable and declare war on the X-Men? Had his father even recognised the mutants that his son had been warning him about ever since Vuyani's mutation had appeared? Erevu didn't know, but he wasn't surprised when his father did what he always did in a crisis. He called his old friend Mwamba.

Mwamba listened carefully as Erevu's father explained that Vuyani had run away and the family did not know where he had gone. That was bad news because Mwamba had big plans for the mutant boy, but Mwamba was confident that with time Vuyani could be found. What was more worrying was that strangers were snooping round, choosing this moment to come looking for the missing boy. Mwamba wasn't about to lose his prize mutant to strangers who just arrived out of nowhere.

"I'll come meet you," Mwamba said. "We'll find the boy. And if we find these strangers too, well, they will wish they had never come to Tanzania."


End file.
